


Night Shifts

by LadyMerlin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Puns, Bottom!Stiles, Canon Divergence, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Rough Sex, deputy!Stiles, man-handling, mentions of bottom!derek, teacher!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-27 21:25:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6300991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles having night shifts at the station had spelled the end of their sex-life. </p><p>It had been okay, for the most part, because Derek loved Stiles for a lot more than just the (incredible) sex. Still, neither of them would ever turn down the opportunity to do-the-diddly-do when they could. </p><p>(Shut up, Stiles. No one says that.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Shifts

They had always known that shift work wasn’t going to be easy on either of them. On Stiles, because he’s a cranky monster after a full eight hours of sleep, and because waking him up before should have been a task assigned to Hercules. On Derek, because night-shifts mean days and days of just not seeing his boyfriend-fiancé-husband-to-be; because he comes in after Derek leaves, and leaves before Derek gets home.

Derek’s hours as a kindergarten teacher are much less taxing, but his schedule is rigid and allows for no exceptions – there are no late mornings, and no early evenings – when the kids are there, so is Derek, and that’s the way it is.

On their worse days, both of them wonder how Stiles’ father managed to be married to a school teacher without going insane from how little they got to see each other. The Sheriff has only ever shrugged and said that if he hadn’t figured it out back then, he sure as heck didn’t have a solution now.

But their better days end like this-

With Derek sleeping soundly in their bed ( _their bed_), and Stiles making his way into the bedroom without tripping over anything or making a racket. For an officer of the law, Stiles is shockingly clumsy, but thankfully it’s one of the (many) things Derek finds endearing, along with his terrible laundry habits, his absurd fear of spiders, the way he sleeps like a starfish, and the relentless, horrendous, _terrible_ puns he unleashes at the most inappropriate moment. Really, the puns cause actual physical _pain_ , but Derek’s such a goner that he finds Stiles adorable, even when Derek can’t bear to look at him, lest he be reminded of the truly terrible pun Stiles’ had just cracked.

Derek just really loves everything about Stiles, which he has to remind himself of, when Stiles crawls into bed in nothing but his boxer shorts, and presses his freezing cold nose into the back of Derek’s neck. It’s not even graceful or subtle or anything, he’s just _there_ , with absolutely no regard for how Derek had just reached the _perfect_ sleeping temperature, or how he’d counted exactly a hundred-and-fifty sheep before he’d been so _rudely_ interrupted.

Stiles snorted, and Derek felt the puff of air against the back of his neck. He suppressed a shiver. “I know you’re awake, babe.”

Derek rolled his eyes, because of course. Despite the clumsiness, there was actually a reason Stiles had been made detective so young. Derek was the one who’d convinced him to apply, because all of Stiles’ amazing deduction skills had been wasted in figuring out which of his dad’s neighbours was cheating on his wife, and which of Derek’s colleagues was about to quit. Stiles was good, and Derek had wanted nothing but the best for him. Even though it had spelled the death of their sex life, with the exception of quick blow-jobs.

He knew Stiles was probably thinking the same thing, judging by the way he stiffened a little and then melted into Derek, absently worrying at Derek’s ear-lobe with his teeth.

There was a pause before they moved at almost exactly the same time, more enthusiastic than graceful. Stiles’ arm smacked into Derek’s chest and Derek’s knee got a little too close for comfort to Stiles’ dick. Thankfully, it wasn’t the first time Stiles’ lack of coordination had _almost_ caused injury to one or both of them. Derek recovered admirably and pushed Stiles back onto the bed, pinning him down with the weight of his body and the teasing threat of his knee between Stiles’ legs, making him whimper. Stiles was already half-hard, Derek could tell through the unforgiving fabric of the deputy uniform. He palmed Stiles’ dick roughly, and Stiles made a sound like he’d been shot, which made Derek grin even wider.

“So, Deputy, what would you like tonight?” he asked, smirking as Stiles’ pupils dilated.

“Fuck, Der. I need you to fuck me.”

Which was unusual, given how bossy Stiles was, and how much Derek loved the feel of Stiles on-top of him, inside him, _wrecking_ him. Unusual, but hardly unheard of. “Yeah?” Derek asked, “want everyone to know what I’ve been doing to you?” he growled, pressing his knee a little harder into Stiles’ groin, but careful, and perfectly in control. “Want to walk into the office with a limp tomorrow? Sit in the patrol car and still feel me inside you? Think Parrish will know why you keep shifting? Think your Dad will be able to tell?”

Stiles whined and bucked his hips, hissing when Derek raked his very-human fingernails down his sides, barely stinging through the fabric of his shirt.

“What do you want, Deputy? Tell me exactly what you want,” Derek repeated, bending down and kissing Stiles sweetly, in sharp counter-point to how he was treating Stiles’ body, keeping it sweet and deep and wet.

Stiles was panting when they parted, chest heaving with effort, dick straining with desperation. Derek wondered if he’d leak through his uniform, if Derek made him come, just like this. The deputy’s uniform was allegedly waterproof, and Stiles had once wondered if that claim would hold water.

“I want you to come inside me,” Stiles whispered, still gasping. “Want you to turn me around and fuck me like you mean it, and mess me up. I want to smell like you, taste like you, I want to _feel_ you even if we can’t have sex for weeks after. _Please._ ”

Derek growled again, and smacked Stiles’ fumbling fingers away. He was faster at getting Stiles naked, and he always slept naked himself. He tossed Stiles’ clothes and their bedsheets off the bed, because Stiles had a terrible habit of getting tangled in the duvet and looking at Derek plaintively to rescue him. His boyfriend – his _Stiles_ – really was ridiculous.

Without warning, he turned Stiles around and sank his teeth into Stiles’ neck, just beneath the line of his uniform collar. Stiles groaned and melted into it, even as Derek’s teeth left dark teeth-marks where they’d pressed. Stiles trusted him intimately, which was an insane turn-on for Derek. Even the past lovers who’d _known_ that he was a werewolf and not an out-of-control serial killer had been wary of his teeth and nails. Stiles had embraced all of it; everything, like it was just part of the territory. He’d thrown himself into _Derek_ head-first.

Derek hauled Stiles’ ass into the air with hands firmly pressed into his hips. Stiles moved easily, propping himself up on his elbows, presenting himself to Derek in a way he knew drove his boyfriend wild. Derek wanted the lube so he could fuck Stiles open. He really did. But Stiles’ ass was just there, in front of him, and he hadn’t seen it in _ages_. He couldn’t help himself from pulling Stiles’ cheeks apart and pressing in with his tongue.

Stiles yelped in shock at the unexpected contact, and lost balance. Derek had expected it, and kept him upright, kept his tongue right _there_ , pressing deeper into Stiles’ tight pucker, where he tasted like earth and sweat and musk, just a little dirty and raw. He grazed his teeth over Stiles’ sensitive skin and dragged his stubble more than he really had to, enjoying how Stiles blushed red and raw and hot.

“ _Fuck_ , Der, what the _fuck_.”

Derek sighed and bit Stiles’ flesh gently, before letting it go and dropping a smacking kiss on it. “Lube?” he asked, before Stiles could make the obligatory ass-kissing joke. He pushed Stiles forward a little, off balance, and pulled one his balls into his mouth. Stiles yelped again, thrashing with pleasure. He threw the bottle of lube over his shoulder, and only Derek’s supernatural reflexes prevented him from being brained. He uncapped the bottle, but took Stiles’ other ball into his mouth instead, making him yelp again.

“You’re such an _asshole_ ,” Stiles moaned, arching his back to give Derek better assess.

Derek rolled Stiles’ ball one last time and pulled away with an obscene pop. “Are you going to make the ‘asshole’ joke or do I have to do all the work around here?” he asked, grinning slightly.

“I swear to god, if you don’t fuck me, I’ll do it myself.” It was a weak threat, and Stiles knew it.

Derek scoffed and squeezed some lube onto his fingers, and then smeared it on Stiles’ skin, between his cheeks. He slipped a thumb into Stiles, and then a finger. Stiles started circling his hips slightly, fucking backwards onto Derek’s fingers, but Derek wanted him to stay still. With his other hand, he reached around and stroked Stiles’ cock, making him buck back into Derek. Stiles was hard, and wet, and there was definitely going to be a wet spot on the sheets, judging by the way he was dripping. It hardly mattered.

“Another?” he asked, and Stiles just nodded. Stiles had always been quiet during sex, which Derek hadn’t expected, given how loud he was the rest of the time. But he liked it. It made it easier to hear Stiles’ harsh breathing, made it easier for Derek to talk to Stiles, so he could tell him exactly what he was going to do.

He slipped another finger into Stiles, and tightened the grip of his other hand around Stiles’ cock. “Fuck, Der,” Stiles swore again, making Derek grin again.

“Want it a little rough today?” he asked, wondering if three fingers were enough.

“ _Christ_ , yes,” Stiles moaned, pressing his face into the pillows, voice muffled.

“My name’s Derek,” Derek replied, because he couldn’t resist. Stiles was a bad influence. He wriggled his fingers around inside Stiles, stretching the tight muscle and pressing against Stiles’ prostate before Stiles had the chance to reply.

He let go of Stiles cock and slicked up his own. Stiles had slipped down from his upright position while Derek had been fingering him, like his knees had given way from the pleasure, and he didn’t have the strength to hold himself up. Derek lined himself up and pressed in, pausing when he felt Stiles tensing in a bad way, giving him a chance to adjust. By the time he had pushed all the way in, Stiles was vibrating with a different sort of tension, his cock pressing into his own belly and making a proper mess. Both of them were breathing heavily, loud in the silence of their bedroom, and Derek could see Stiles’ pulse fluttering like a mad thing in the hollow of his throat.

He knew from prior experience that there was really nothing left to push in, but that didn’t stop him from trying, from holding Stiles still and thrusting his hips deeper, just so he could press his chest across Stiles’ sweaty back and put his mouth on Stiles’ neck. Stiles whimpered again, fingers clutching the bedsheets helplessly, and bared his neck as much as he could, to let Derek lave his pulse point with his tongue, and then graze it with his teeth.

When Derek was satisfied with the purpling bruise he’d left there, which would no doubt raise some eyebrows the following day, he guided Stiles’ hands to curl around the iron head-board they had installed for that very purpose.

“Ready?” he asked, sliding his hands down Stiles’ chest, tweaking his nipples before coming to rest on his hips. Stiles clenched his muscles in response, and Derek got the hint. He moved, just as sure and smooth as he could, holding Stiles perfectly still so he could press right back into him on the in-stroke.

Stiles whined, and Derek did it again, picking up the pace until the loudest sound in the room was the slick slap of skin against skin, and the wet slosh of so much lube and pre-come. His grip on Stiles’ hips had tightened, but Stiles was bouncing anyway, his muscles clenching with the shocks of pleasure from Derek’s cock against his prostate. Stiles’ elbows were locked into place and it just wasn’t enough – the position felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Derek thought fast, with whatever little capacity he had left, and pulled out to Stiles’ noisy protest.

He got off the bed and dragged Stiles to the very edge, lining up and then pressing back in with very little fuss. Stiles moaned again, and went with it. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, Derek had much better leverage to really _fuck_ Stiles hard. He pushed Stiles’ shoulders down onto the bed so he could get deeper, and was rewarded with the sounds of Stiles moaning even louder.

The smell of sex was thick in the air, and Derek knew exactly what it would take to send Stiles over the edge. He knew his boyfriend-fiancé-husband-to-be. On one instroke, he pressed his finger into Stiles, along with his cock. Stiles opened for him, melting like hot butter, moaning. When Derek pushed in another finger, Stiles went off like a fire-cracker, arching his back into an impossible curve, pressing back into Derek.

Derek spared a moment of regret for having chosen this position, in which he couldn’t see Stiles’ face, or the come that had no doubt painted his skin. Only a moment, though, and continued fucking Stiles through the aftershocks. Stiles’ moans intensified into a high whine of over-sensitivity, his muscles spasming and rolling uncontrollably. Stiles was tight, and wet, and hot, but not tight enough, and he _had_ told Derek that he wanted to feel it till the next time they had sex.

So he reached around and pumped Stiles’ soft cock, making him _writhe_ in pleasure-pain, his toes curling furiously on the bed-spread. He squeezed around Derek’s cock, and Derek finally slipped over the edge of his orgasm, paining Stiles with his come. He kept moving until his own knees gave way, drinking in Stiles’ soft mewls, his complete lack of protest.

He didn’t want to pull out, but he had to, to shove Stiles up to the pillows. He followed, draping himself over Stiles’ back, mouthing lazily at the mottled bruise on Stiles’ neck. Derek rarely topped, but when he did, they both liked it rough, and desperate. It had been a while since they’d gone this far, but it had been as good as Derek remembered. He licked the sweat beading on Stiles’ neck until Stiles squirmed beneath him, after which they kissed and kissed and kissed, touching each other and drinking their fill of physical contact.

“God, I missed you,” Derek whispered, roughly thumbing Stiles’ nipple. Stiles bit Derek’s lower lip in return and nodded. He sucked Derek’s tongue into his mouth and didn’t let go, until they were panting again, by which point they were both exhausted.

Derek sighed and collapsed on-top of Stiles, ignoring Stiles’ feigned protests, knowing that he really liked being pinned down. Stiles’ fingers carding through his hair belied his complaints, which eventually gentled into soft kisses and hums of contentment.

“How was your day, Deputy?” he asked, the term filled with affection and none of the seduction of before.

Stiles shrugged, and Derek felt the movement all along his body. Come was still leaking out of Stiles, and Derek kinda wanted to shove it back in with his fingers. He absently considered the mechanics of butt plugs. “Some guy threw a can at me.”

Derek blinked sleep out of his eyes, fingers clenching involuntarily on Stiles’ hip at the thought of his boyfriend incurring injury. “Yeah? Are you alright?”

He heard Stiles’ grin before he saw it. “Yup. It was just a soft drink.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Love you too, boo.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written when I should have been working. But it was a Sunday and I wanted to write some porn, so there. Just a warning that this has not been beta-ed or checked in any way. It's just some feel-good, established relationship PWP. I hope ya'll enjoy anyway.
> 
> P.S. posted after quite possibly the worst day in recent recollection. Send love please.


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